


Flirting at the Back of the Class

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, McHanzo Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:37:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8948023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: McHanzo Week Day 5 Prompt: Young Love
Guys, you are not being subtle. Seriously. Not subtle at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be the shortest thing I've ever written. Insane.

They are the last to make it to the conference room, which should be everyone’s first warning. Slipping into the tightly packed room one after the other they hesitate by the door, no doubt scanning to find the empty seats. McCree shares a disappointed glance with Hanzo when they have to separate to opposite sides of the long table, the cowboy taking the empty chair between Satya and Fareeha. Just across from him Hanzo slips into the last remaining space with Lena on one side and Angela on the other.

The Quarterly All-Hands Meeting is by far the most boring event in all of Overwatch. It is the brainchild of Winston and Morrison, two people who should never be in charge of anything if you want it to last less than an hour. Last meeting ran for over three and Jamison had to be excused halfway through for fear he might literally throw a bomb at the head of the table just to end the misery.

Agents falling into a dazed stupor or flat-out snoring were not unheard of in this leviathan of meetings. McCree himself was known to let his hat drop down to block his face in the truly boring parts, glad that he trained himself not to snore back in Blackwatch. But all that was before. For this is the first Quarterly All-Hands Meeting where McCree happens to be dating the hottest fella in Overwatch.

Just ten minutes ago they were half-undressed in Hanzo’s bed, working on stripping off the rest of their clothes when they remembered what day it was. There had been a mad scramble to get presentable and run through halls decorated for the upcoming holiday season. McCree almost made the mistake of walking in with his shirt on backwards, Hanzo only just barely catching it.

Hanzo’s lips are still pink and swollen. He does not think anyone else notices since the room has been dimmed so they can watch some sort of presentation Winston wants them to see. It could be anything--the December meeting is always the longest what with end-of-year business. Combat overviews? Inter-government relations? The lunch schedule? McCree does not have a clue. He cannot keep his eyes off the man across from him.

 

\---

 

Hanzo does a decent job of appearing to pay attention, but McCree knows better. Those eyes keep sneaking just as many looks his direction, lingering glances heavy with intent. Those gorgeous brown eyes make concentration impossible.

 

\---

 

Fifteen minutes in, Hanzo’s lack of interest in the proceedings makes itself known. He silently rips the corner off one of the sheets of paper in front of him, fingers rolling the scrap into a tiny ball. He waits until Winston turns around to point at something on the screen to flick it at McCree. It bounces off McCree’s chest and back down onto the table. It is all McCree can do not to grin at Hanzo’s playfulness today, and in response McCree slides the wad of paper into position and sends it flying back.

They flick the little ball back and forth until they lose it to the floor then take turns making new ones, getting increasingly creative with how and where they are aiming. They would probably continue to ramp it up if Angela did not drop her hand to the table and rap her nails in a loud stacatto. McCree glances up to see her glaring pointedly at him, and he quickly swipes the little arsenal of paper balls he amassed off the table and out of sight. Spoilsport.

 

\---

 

Hanzo and McCree are a few seconds behind everyone else in turning their information pamphlets to the next page. Who cares about expense reports? This is why McCree was wretched in school, he could never concentrate on things so boring. Well, to be fair he did not have someone as incredibly sexy and intoxicating as Hanzo in his life, but if he had it would have been a hundred times worse. He snags a pen from the cup in the middle of the table just to have something to do with his hands.

It is not long before McCree is doodling in the margins, random squiggly lines and swirling flowers. He glances over at Hanzo who is watching the paper, so McCree draws a tiny heart. That gets a raised eyebrow, so he draws another, and another, varying the size and style. He ends up with hearts all along the top of the page, thick as a field of flowers. It earns him a sweet smile partially hidden behind Hanzo’s hand. He thinks there is a faint blush on the archer’s cheeks.

Next to him Fareeha chuckles softly, only loud enough for him to hear. Right. There are people here.

 

\---

 

He sees Hanzo reach out to get his own pen, and for a moment McCree thinks he is going to actually take notes. Which is so like him. He found out Hanzo wears reading glasses, sexy closet nerd that he is.

But no. The pen does not start making marks on the paper. No, Hanzo brings the end to his lips and taps them thoughtfully. His gaze slides over to make sure McCree is looking, then he slides the tip between those pink lips.

McCree narrows his eyes at the other man. ‘Really?’ he mouths, feeling hot under the collar. Hanzo just smirks and slides the pen in a little further then pulls it out slowly, the blunt cap pressed to his now-wet bottom lip.

Damn. He does not play fair. 

 

\---

 

Never let it be said that McCree backs down from a challenge.

He weighs the pros and cons of his idea--his genius idea--and determines that getting caught would be humiliating, but getting away with it will be worth the risk. Slowly, subtly, McCree slouches down in his chair. He carefully works one foot out of its boot. Hanzo looks confused, trying to figure out what he is doing, but he cannot just stare over constantly. When Hanzo is looking up at the front of the room, McCree sends a silent prayer that his aim is true and extends his leg.

McCree’s socked foot makes contact with a warm fabric-covered thigh just as Hanzo’s eyes go comically wide and his body goes stock still. It is not obvious to anyone else, but no one else is looking but him. Hanzo’s eyes cut over to meet his, shock and panic and disbelief in equal amounts. He cannot react more than that for fear of someone noticing.

So McCree flexes his ankle and points his foot, rubbing seductively along the muscle of Hanzo’s inner thigh.

Hanzo drops a hand down below the table, and the moment it is out of sight he grabs hold of McCree’s foot. It does not push the foot out of his lap, but it does squeeze him hard and Hanzo shoots him a warning look. McCree reads him loud and clear, then promptly ignores that by pushing just hard enough to put pressure where Hanzo wants it most.

It draws a gasp from the archer’s lips that he has no hope of quelling, but at the same time Morrison thumps his hand down loudly on the other end of the table. “McCree?”

McCree jerks his legs under the table and his knee bangs loud on the underside, drawing everyone’s attention as he hisses in pain. “Fuckin’ hell, man, what?”

“I asked you a question. Or are you too busy fluttering your lashes to pay attention?”

“Now, Morrison, you know I only got eyes for you,” McCree drawls, recovering from his embarrassment in record time. Hanzo covers his burning face with his hand and slumps down in his seat at the muffled giggles that squeak out around the room, and Morrison gives them both an annoyed look before returning to whatever topic he had been on, apparently deeming the cowboy not worth the effort today.

When Hanzo risks a peek from between his fingers, McCree is already gazing back at him, a little self-satisfied tilt to his lips. He shoots Hanzo a wink. Hanzo cannot help but return it.


End file.
